Mister Jones and Me
by Supernatural-flavored-lollipop
Summary: Dean asks an old friend for help stealing a cursed Samovar from a museum during a Gala. Ridiculousness ensues, along with a lot of James Bond references.


"Ashley." Dean's voice from the other end of the phone line caused me to pause. I hadn't heard from him in a while, so long in fact that his number wasn't even in my new burner phone.

"Winchester." I replied with a small smile. I returned to my business, lit the match, and tossed it onto the pile of vampire bodies that were stacked in the hole I had dug. They lit up like the fourth of July- I'd used about a gallon of lighter fluid on them. I wiped my muddy hands on my jeans, and leaned against my car. "What's up. Yours is a voice I wasn't sure I'd hear again."

"What, you think I wouldn't call a girl as pretty as you?" I could hear the grin in his voice. I rolled my eyes.

"No. I figured you wouldn't last long enough _to_ call me."

"Oh. Well, that's more realistic." He agreed. "Alas, I _have managed_ to last this long. And I need a small favor. Where are you?"

"Uh, Iowa, actually. In some shit hole town that used to have a vampire problem, but _doesn't anymore_." I said in a sing-song voice. I watched the bodies burn, wondering at what point in my life this particular step of hunting had gone from gruesome to _eh, whatever._

"Oh, good. You aren't too far. I'm in Ohio, and I need a date."

"You can't be that hard up for a date, Dean. I've seen you in action. You've got mad skills. Just go to a bar or something. The floozies come running. They practically take their own clothes off."

"No, not that kind of date." He sighed. "I need to steal something, and there's a Gala I have to get into, and I need to look legitimate. And... there's this police officer here who hasn't left me alone since the minute I got here. _She's seriously on my nuts._"

"So ask her to go with you?"

"No! It'll blow my Fed game, I'm _totally_ not interested, and I need you to run interference!" He sounded desperate. I smiled, enjoying desperate Dean. "Sarah won't mind if I borrow you for a day or two will she? I'll keep my hands to myself, I swear."

I paused, letting out a loud sigh. "I doubt Sarah will give a shit. That ended a while ago."

"Oh. Shit. Sorry."

I shrugged. "It happens. When do you need me?"

"Day after tomorrow. I can come get you. What town are you in?"

"Always the gentleman, aren't we, Dean?" I smiled, as the flames died out. I told him where my motel was, hung up, picked up my shovel, and began to bury the bodies.

Dean showed up the next morning. I was pretty sure he'd driven all night, because there was no way he'd gotten up early enough to be at my motel by ten. I rolled out of bed when I heard the knock, peeked out the peephole, and opened the door.

"There's a sight for sore eyes." He smiled from ear to ear, taking me in.

"Ugh. I just got up." I ran my hands through my hair, trying to get it to lay flatter, and let him in to my motel room. My stuff was everywhere. I moved a pile of clothes so he could sit on the other chair, and he handed me a cup of coffee. "Oh, man, you're my savior. Don't let anyone tell you different!" I grasped the coffee, taking a long drink. We sat. "Okay, so tell me what this job entails, other than protecting you from Officer Grab-Ass."

"Well, that's your _main_ job. But basically, there's a Gala at this museum, and there's a cursed object there. It's a nineteenth century Russian tea thingy..."

"A Samovar?"

"Yeah, one of those." Dean nodded. "Hunts have been a little slow, and Sam's been doing a little digging. Turns out, every time someone takes it out to clean it, that person ends up dead. This museum has had ten dead cleaning people in the last three months. Law enforcement is even involved. So, we have to steal it and burn it. You know the drill."

"Wouldn't hiring a cat-burglar be easier?" I asked. "Or breaking in? Like, _not_ stealing it at a _Gala full of people?_"

"I thought so too, but this place has a security system that we'd need Charlie to hack, and we can't get hold of her. So it's tomorrow night, or the teapot keeps killing people." Dean shrugged.

I nodded. "All right. If you have a plan, I'll tag along." I leaned back, enjoying the coffee. "How have you been, Dean?"

He was quiet for a few moments. "Oh, you know. Same old stuff. Up to my ears in demons." He grinned, but it didn't reach his eyes. I knew the feeling. This life took it's toll on all of us eventually. We all started out feeling like Indiana Jones. After a few years, we weren't so sure which way was up anymore; there was no way to get our heads above the water. "How about you? I'm sorry to hear about Sarah. I liked her... Or did I? Did she break your heart? Because _in that case_, I always hated the bitch."

I smiled. "Yeah, she kinda did. But I got over it. Rebounded with a hunter named Drake... who I'm now hoping you don't know since I told you his name..."

"_His_ name?"

I nodded. "Oh come on, Dean. You of all people should know that bisexuality exists."

He got an amused look on his face and nodded, knowingly. "I just, you know, I just always knew you _with Sarah_. It didn't occur to me."

I waved him off. "Of course it didn't." I stood up. "I'm gonna go shower and pack up my stuff. Then I'll be ready to go. I'll leave my car at the rest stop on the way out of town."

"I'll be here." Dean said, watching me head to the bathroom. "And Ashley..."

I turned. "Yeah?"

"It's real good to see you."

"You too, Dean."

"Okay, you look amazing in that dress, but I have one question, and it's entirely inappropriate, so please don't slap me." Dean was at my door, in a very well fitting tuxedo, and when I'd opened it in my floor length halter dress with the thigh high slit, his eyes had nearly fallen out of his head.

"And what would that question be?" I raised one eyebrow.

"I know you're packing _at least _one weapon. Where the hell is it?" He was inspecting the dress very closely.

"I have a knife strapped to the inside of my leg." I replied, hands on hips, watching him size up my ensemble. "A very large knife."

He smiled. "I wouldn't expect anything less from you."

"You look pretty sharp in that tux." I stepped up close; he drew in a sharp breath, and I straightened his bow-tie for him.

"It's Winchester. Dean Winchester." He did his best Bond impersonation.

"And which Bond was that?"

"Connery. Of course." He led the way to the car. "The _only_ Bond."

"Funny. I figured you'd be a Daniel Craig guy." I slid into the passenger seat, and Dean closed the door after me, went around, and got in on his side.

"Why is that?"

"Because he's, er, a little more rough around the edges."

"You mean he beats the shit out of everyone?" Dean gave me a knowing look.

"Exactly."

"Yeah." He leaned back, putting the car in drive. "He's my second favorite." He winked, and pulled out onto the road.

The Gala was boring. So, so boring. We'd gotten in no problem. My knife was not metal so we'd gotten past security just fine, and then mingled with the guests. Everyone knew Dean as Agent Jones, and he kept introducing me to everyone as his fiancee. I figured out who Officer Grab-Ass was pretty fast. A pretty blonde with super perky breasts and really big hair had approached in a long blue dress, and wrapped her arms around his neck immediately.

"Agent Jones, how nice to see you here. I wasn't sure if you'd be able to make it." She cooed in his ear, not letting go quite quickly enough for _any_ semblance of professionalism.

"Wouldn't miss it, _Officer_ Bennett." Dean said, extracting himself from her grasp. I had been a few steps away, getting a glass of champagne from a waiter. He reached over, wrapping a strong arm around my waist, and pulled me towards them. He pulled me very close against him. "Have you met Ashley? This is my fiancee. Ashley, this is Officer Bennett. She's been helping me on the case here at the museum."

I quickly shook hands with the woman. She was pretty and seemed nice enough, and was practically throwing herself at him. Usually that was all it took for Dean- I wondered why he didn't like her. Then she looked me up and down. "_Oh_. Nice to meet you. Agent Jones never mentioned a fiancee." She looked at me down her nose with disdain.

_Oh_. That's why he didn't like her. _She was a bitch._

"Well, generally agents don't talk about their personal lives on assignment, do they, honey?" I asked, kissing Dean on the cheek.

"No baby, we don't." He grinned down at me, giving me a quick peck on the lips. I wasn't quite expecting that, and even though I knew it was part of the act, I thought I felt a little spark there.

"Right. Want to keep it professional." Officer Bennett downed a glass of champagne. "Well, it's been nice chatting. I'm sure I'll see you around." She went in for another hug from Dean, but I shot her a _look_, and she stopped and just stalked off.

I turned to Dean. "I seriously just had to cock-block that woman. _You couldn't do that yourself_?"

He shrugged. "I've been turning her down all damned week, or just avoiding her. It's getting tiring."

I rolled my eyes. "Now you know how it feels being a girl." I downed my champagne as well, tried to get the kiss out of my head, and got back to business. Or was going to. I realized Dean still had me pressed firmly to his side, his arm around my waist. "Um, Dean?"

"Yeah?" He asked absentmindedly, snagging his own glass of bubbly from a passing waiter.

"This is cozy and all, but... could you let go of me? We have a Samovar to go steal."

"Oh. Yeah. Shit, sorry." He quickly dropped his arm. "It just felt natural. Got too into the act I guess." He shrugged and shot me that smile that he _knew_ worked on _everyone_.

"Whatever. We need to get to this thing. It's two rooms over, right?"

He nodded. "There's a security camera, and an alarm on the glass, but most of the security is shut off for the Gala. Sam said he's fairly sure he can take care of those two."

"Fairly sure?"

"He can do it. He's just not cocky."

"Right. So... Officer Bennett hasn't taken her eyes off of you since she walked away. How are we supposed to steal anything with Basic Instinct watching your every move?" I slid my eyes in her direction. She was pouting, looking at Dean. Every once in a while she would shoot me a dirty look. I rolled my eyes. She was just one of _those people_, the ones who were unreasonable.

"You could have a chat with her?" Dean suggested.

"A chat? About what?"

"Me, probably." He wiggled his eyebrows.

"You're joking, right?"

"Nope." He was dead serious. "Strike up a conversation. Whatever you do, don't get into a fight. _Don't stab her_. Should I take your knife?"

I glared at him. "Don't even try it, buddy."

He laughed. "Just distract her. Tell her all about the sex. Tell her it's _amazing_." He winked at me, then, noticing Officer Bennett was staring right at us, he stepped really close to me. "Do you trust me?" he asked.

"Um, sure, why not?" I replied. He was inching really close. He smiled a little half smile, leaned down, and pressed his lips to mine. I closed my eyes and let the feeling sink in. I was kissing Dean, and I liked it. I hadn't kissed anyone since Drake, and hadn't had sparks like this since Sarah. Just as I began kissing him back, he pulled away.

"What was that for?" I asked, blinking a few times.

"_For luck._" Then he turned and walked away, James Bond style. _Damn that man_. I turned, took a deep breath, and meandered over to Officer Bennett. I didn't care what Dean suggested, I was not going to bring up sex with her. I saw him head towards the mens room, and knew he'd divert and head to the other museum room as soon as he was out of view. I approached the bar where Officer Bennett was standing, and leaned against it, waiting for a bartender. I pretended not to notice her.

She however, didn't ignore me.

"So, you and Agent Jones?" She turned to me. I turned towards her as well. I nodded.

"Yeah." I smiled. "He's a good guy. Away on work a lot." I pretended to lament about that for a second. The bartender came up and I ordered a martini.

"Yeah. He's been here for a while on this dead-end case." Bennett sighed. I could tell she was kind of drunk. "Cleaning ladies for the museum keep ending up dead. It's really weird. Not sure why the FBI is even here, but whatever." She slid her eyes towards me. "I don't mind Tom's company."

"Tom?" I asked her.

"Yeah... your fiancee."

"Yeah... I just didn't realize you were on a first name basis." Actually, I hadn't realized he'd told her his full name was _Tom friggin' Jones_, and she'd actually believed him. I wasn't sure who the bigger moron was, her, or Dean. Or me, for standing here listening to shitty music at a Gala while he was off pretending to be James Bond, stealing a teapot.

"Oh." She smiled smugly. "Yeah. We're _real good friends_." She sipped her drink. "Gotten real close the last week or so."

"Oh?" I asked, feigning innocence, as the bartender brought me my martini. I took a sip.

"It's not that unusual on a case." She explained. "Agent away from home, cozies up to local law enforcement. It happens." She shrugged. "You might want to get used to it, if you're gonna marry him."

I nodded. "I see."

"That's all you have to say?"

"Well, I really don't know what else to say. It's your word against his, and since I haven't been here, I guess I need to have a talk with _Tom_." I pretended to be concerned. In reality, even though this woman was striking, I knew Dean wouldn't touch her with a ten foot pole. He'd for sure thought about it when he first met her. I know I would have. Then he'd figured out she was awful and that was a deal breaker.

"It's really best you know now, though, right? I mean, before the wedding?" Officer Bennett faked sympathy.

"Oh, of course. I just... I never thought my high school sweetheart could do that to me!" I willed tears to form in my eyes.

"Your... your what?"

"Junior high, actually. We grew up together. He promised me, in the eighth grade, up in an apple tree on dad's farm, that he'd marry me one day. And I _believed him_." I felt a rush of happiness as I felt a fat tear roll down my cheek. I was making up mad shit as I went, and she was falling for it hook, line, and sinker.

Officer Bennett gulped. "You two have been together since you were in _eighth grade_?" She asked me. She looked like she was starting to feel guilty.

I nodded. I was really getting the waterworks going. "I could never imagine he could get close to another woman. I thought he only had eyes for me." I had to try really hard to keep myself from laughing. Officer Bennett looked like she was going to throw up and cry at the same time now. And I couldn't imagine Dean at _any_ age, even 13, sitting in a fucking apple tree promising to marry anyone. I hoped he stole that damned cursed object soon, because I really wasn't sure how long I could keep this charade up.

"Shit." Officer Bennett looked deflated. "I'll level with you." She let out a frustrated sigh. "Your fiancee never touched me. It's not that I didn't try. He's hella fine. He didn't even attempt it. Hell, he didn't even look my way." She frowned. "I made all that crap up. I'm sorry. I'm just a drunk, jealous bitch."

I looked at her, extremely surprised. I hadn't actually expected an apology. Now I had to act grateful.

"You... you mean he was faithful?" I put on my best wide-eyed ingenue look. She nodded, chugging her glass of wine like it was going out of style.

"Yeah. The man was a saint." She motioned to the bartender for another glass. "You've got a good one."

"Oh my God, thank you for telling me!" I threw my arms around her, pretending to be thrilled. She tensed up, obviously uncomfortable. That's when the alarm went off. I pulled back. We both looked around.

"What the hell?" Officer Bennett looked about the room, but shrugged and went back to her wine.

"You aren't gonna do anything about that?" I asked. I was secretly a bit worried she'd catch Dean and I in the act of theft.

"Nah. It's my night off. And I'm hammered." She shrugged. "I'll let security handle it."

"Right... Okay. Well... Gotta go. Nice talk." I quickly made my way towards the door, checking my phone. I called Dean. I didn't see him being dragged out in cuffs or anything, so that was good, right?

"Yeah? Ashley? Can't talk. Meet me out back like, yesterday." He answered, spoke, and hung up. I could tell he was breathing hard, probably running.

I made my way to the back door. I knew it had an alarm as well, so I hoped to God he was out there with his car. I pushed the door open. The alarm sounded; I ran out, and jumped in the passenger seat of the waiting Impala. "What the fuck, Dean? How'd you set off the alarm? I thought you said Sam had it under control!"

"He did. I set off the alarm because I climbed out the wrong window with the fucking teapot." He indicated a thin cloth bag containing the silver Samovar in the back seat. "I couldn't exactly waltz out the front door with the thing."

I rolled my eyes. "The best laid plans..."

"Yeah. Or half assed plans made at the last possible minute." Dean smirked.

"At least you had that good luck kiss." I slid my eyes over towards him to see his reaction. His face brightened and his smile widened. "God knows what would have happened without _that._"

"Guess you're my good luck charm." He reached over and tugged at a curled strand of my hair.

"Where are we going to burn this bitch?" I asked, beginning to pull hairpins out of my updo. My hair cascaded down my back. I noticed Dean watching me out of the corner of his eye. He was intrigued.

"Cabin. One of Bobby's old hideouts. Has a fireplace. Figured I could head there and burn it." His eyes went back to the road. "You're welcome to join me. Or I can take you back to your car first."

"Where is this cabin?" I hated to admit it, but I didn't want to end my stay with the older Winchester just yet.

"About halfway between here and where I picked you up in Iowa."

"Right. Well, we should burn it as fast as possible. I'll just go with you."

I could see him grin in the lights from the passing cars. "Awesome."

We got to the cabin when it was still dark, about 2am. We brought in our stuff. There was only one bedroom- Dean told me he'd sleep on the couch. We built up a pretty good fire, and threw the teapot in. It was going to take a long time to melt it down, and we'd have to probably burn the melted silver for a long time outside in a fire pit the next day, but for now, we were tired, and settled down on the sofa to watch the fire blaze.

"Thanks for helping." Dean said, watching the fire, untying his bow-tie.

"No problem."

"Did you and Officer Bennett have a nice chat?" He seemed amused at the thought.

"Actually... it was quite eventful."

"Oh no."

"No, no, it didn't get violent." I put my hand on his arm. "You seriously underestimate my communication skills, Dean." I leaned against his shoulder. "It okay if I lean against you?"

"I don't have a problem with it." Dean lifted up his arm and settled it around my shoulders. "So what did you two talk about exactly?"

"Well, _not_ your amazing sex life." I rolled my eyes. "She decided to tell me that you two got cozy, and that she felt obligated to tell me so that I knew what kind of man you were before I married you." I chuckled.

"And what'd you say to that."

"Well, after I figured out that _Tom Jones_ was you, _and that's a horrible alias by the way, never go by that again please_, I put on a great show. I started crying and told her that I couldn't believe my junior high school sweetheart would ever do me wrong."

Dean nearly choked. "Junior high school sweetheart?"

"Oh yeah. It was worse than a country song. You proposed to me when we were 13 in an apple tree on one of our parent's farms, I don't remember exactly what I said. I got some tears flowing too." I was pretty proud of myself.

I looked up. Dean was smiling. "An apple tree on a farm. Wow. You are one good bullshitter."

"I'm the _best_ bullshitter. That's why you called me."

"That's not untrue."

"By the end, she was apologizing and called herself a jealous, drunken bitch. Said you never touched her. And that you're a keeper or some shit. So apparently I can fake marry you with the blessing of Officer Grab-Ass." I giggled again.

"Glad to hear someone thinks I'm a catch." Dean shook his head. "I... waterworks? Really? I thought an argument maybe, a slapfight possibly, bailing you out of jail _eh could happen_..." I noticed that instead of watching the fire, Dean was now watching _me_ watch the fire. "Your acting skills are impressive."

"I'm just glad you set off that alarm so I didn't have to keep pretending I was engaged to Tom friggin' Jones. _Seriously, Tom Jones?_"

Dean smiled down at me. "Sam got mad at me and that was the only ID he would make me." He shrugged. "Whatever. I looked like James Bond. I was a hot Tom Jones. You can admit it."

"You were a pretty hot Tom Jones." I agreed.

"And I had a very hot Bond Girl on my arm."

"Hey! All the Bond Girls are good for is getting laid and getting killed!"

"Not the newer ones! Moneypenny shot James Bond, then got laid, then gets to sass him all the time!" Dean protested.

I relented. "Okay, there's _one_."

"It's a start."

"If I recall, I didn't shoot you this entire evening." I told him. "Not even a little bit. Not even once."

"You did kiss me though. That's sort of Bond-Girlish."

"_You_ kissed me."

"Oh. Yeah, I did." He grinned deviously.

"And it wasn't all for Officer Bennett's benefit." I added. "I know what you've got up your sleeve, Dean Winchester."

"Oh do you?" He feigned innocence. I nodded. "Well, you seem comfortable enough, all snuggled up with me on the couch."

"I didn't say I wasn't also feeling what you've got up your sleeve. I was just saying I know what's up." I picked my head up from his shoulder and looked at him. "Ever since you found out I don't _just_ like girls."

"Honey, it was before I found that out, but obviously I wasn't gonna give it a shot when I thought it'd be an immediate strikeout." He shrugged again. "Hot is hot. I just never thought it would happen."

I turned, straddling his lap. "Do you trust me?" I grinned down at him. His green eyes looked up at me.

"Um, sure, why not?" His lips turned up at the edges as he repeated my words from earlier. I pushed him back against the sofa, hard, and pressed my lips to his. He reached up to slide his hands up my back. I pulled him closer to me, deepening the kiss. Then I stood up, grabbing him by the front of his tux shirt and yanking him up off the couch. "Easy, tiger." He reached down and kissed me again.

I pushed him down the short hallway, tearing off his jacket, and pushing him backwards onto the bed. "Help me with my zipper." He obliged, sliding it down my side. My dress came off, and I climbed on top of him. "I heard you liked your women dominant." I said, gazing down at his bare chest, his tattoo, all of him.

"Guess you'll have to find out." He winked.

"Good." I leaned over him, my lips centimeters from his lips. "Tonight, I get to be James Bond."


End file.
